Through Her Eyes
by et-spiritus-sancti
Summary: After several failed relationships, Tavington has finally married. However, not long into the marriage, his new bride exhibits strange and dangerous behavior. Set right before Tav. deployment. Rated T for SC/L.
1. Chapter 1

**Through Her Eyes**

**By Et-Spiritus-Sancti**

Chapter 1:

She moved slightly—the first time since Tavington had sat down. She merely shifted her weight and pursed her lips around the stick of rock candy she kept in her mouth. All the while, she stared at him. Tavington glared back, summoning his most threatening expression. The ten year old seemed unmoved by his attempt to intimidate her. Instead, she pursed her lips again and blinked slowly like a cow, sucking away at the offensive candy.

This was ridiculous. Where the bloody hell was Carter? Surely this bovine belonged to him. Tavington broke the trance and huffed a sigh, tapping a set of fingers on the armrest. He did not like to be kept waiting, and certainly not in the company of the bovine.

A loud slurp erupted from the girl's direction and Tavington slowly turned his head to her. She had removed the stick of rock candy from her sizable orifice and was now lapping at her lips like a dog. After she removed the dried sugar from her lips, the girl unceremoniously shoved the candy stick back into her mouth farther than Tavington would've thought possible. He visibly cringed and glanced toward the ceiling.

Another slurping sound came from the girl followed by a loud swallow. "I like your hat. It's fuzzy."

His cover sat on the edge of Carter's desk, the fur of the bearskin rustling slightly from the spring breeze that drifted from the open windows. Tavington stiffened at the comment. "It's not a hat. It's a helmet."

The girl didn't seem to hear him and she continued to stare at his helmet with desire. "May I touch it?"

"You may not," Tavington spat. Her gaze shifted to him and she almost seemed hurt as she nestled back into her chair and returned the candy to her mouth.

A moment later, Carter's unmistakable voice filtered through the office door. Major Tavington straightened his spine and immediately sprung out of the armchair. The door swung open and Colonel Carter stepped loudly into the room followed closely by his wife, Molly, whose hair looked like she'd hastily pinned it up. She was particularly cheerful and giggled at her husband shamelessly.

Tavington bowed his head quickly to both. "Colonel, Mrs. Carter, it's a pleasure." He might as well have been invisible, as the Colonel simply waved a hand in his direction, concentrating his vision instead on his young wife's sizable bosom. Carter then whispered something into Molly's ear, which triggered another bubbly giggle. Carter chuckled before finally turning to Tavington.

"William, my lad, it's been ages," Tavington received a sharp cuff on his shoulder as Carter breezed past him to sit behind his oak desk. Nodding once more at Molly, who swayed suggestively and winked at him, Tavington sank back into the armchair.

"Angel!" The girl stood from her chair, the candy stick securely in her mouth, "Go and join Molly in the drawing room will you, sugar-plum?"

The girl's brow creased and she stared at her father for but a moment before walking heavily to join her stepmother at the door. Carter gave a little wave to the girls before they left the room, the scent of Molly's perfume still in the air. Carter sighed pleasantly, carefully pulling a few papers from a tall stack on his desk.

"You seem to be enjoying your new married life, Colonel," Tavington noted this as dryly as he could. Carter chuckled as he leafed through the papers in front of him.

"Molly is the best that's happened to me. I only wish she would take a liking to my angel." Tavington could not see how anyone could appreciate the bovine.

"How have you been, Major, keeping busy I hope?" Carter poured some delicious looking bourbon from a decanter and leaned across the desk to hand the glass to Tavington. He took it without hesitation.

"Not as much as I'd like," Tavington swirled the contents of his glass a little and motioned to the papers in front of his superior, "I'm hoping my orders prove to be motivating."

Carter nodded distractedly, "Yes, of course, William," He suddenly dropped the papers containing Tavington's future. "William I must say, after Meredith's death, I forgot just how fulfilling and…stimulating marriage can be."

Tavington stared at Carter, the glass held firmly in his hand. Was he really going to discuss the details of his private life? He would sooner let the bovine touch his helmet.

"William, are you courting anyone?"

Granted, Tavington was relieved when it became apparent that Carter wasn't going to enlighten him about the amorous activities he no doubt just participated in with Molly. However, the question still made him uncomfortable and the young major shifted in his seat.

"No, sir."

Carter's brow creased and he dipped his chin in thought. "No sweetheart? No one you have an eye for?"

Tavington made a notable pause before answering. "No. Colonel, my orders?"

"This won't do," Carter mumbled to himself, crossing his hands over the documents. Tavington had the urge to scramble across the desk and rip the pages out from under the Colonel's stubby fingers. He resisted and instead clenched his teeth and tightened the grip around his glass.

"William, you've been a Major for some time now, haven't you?"

Tavington was not pleased at all with the turn in conversation, although at least it was no longer about women. "For some time, yes."

Carter nodded as he poured himself another glass of bourbon. "You've also been passed over for promotion once before, correct?"

Tavington ground his teeth to bite back the frustration. "Twice."

Carter nodded again and glanced briefly at the papers. "Shame."

"Colonel, are you suggesting I haven't been promoted to Lieutenant Colonel because I'm not marri—"

"William, please, that's preposterous!" Carter tapped his fingers then nervously fidgeted with his wedding band, "However, it certainly wouldn't hurt. Especially since," he glanced at the papers again, apparently to remind himself of the content, "since you're to be shipped to the colonies in June."

Tavington was well aware he would join in the battles to win back the New World from the traitorous savages. "And my orders upon arriving, sir?"

"Well, if you are promoted, you will lead your own cavalry of dragoons," Carter's smile dropped suddenly, "if not, you will serve in the same cavalry under Colonel Huntington. Did you know he's to marry next week?"

Tavington was quite ready to take life from something. Anything. Then Carter spoke again. He almost sealed his fate in doing so. "Major, to be perfectly honest, the crown has expressed wishes that his majesty's officers not only represent heroes, but family men," Carter leaned forward, hunching his shoulders so the flabbiness of them stretched the material of his shirt, "And, Major, wouldn't it be nice after a long, hard day of war-mongering to retire at a lovely mansion with the other officers and relax in the arms of your woman? Instead of a tumble on a tiny cot in your tent with one of those diseased camp followers?"

Tavington stared at his superior with a deadpan expression. "Colonel, if that is all…"

Carter sighed, and then shrugged in defeat. "I suppose." He folded the orders into an envelope, stamping his seal before handing the document to Tavington. A thought then must've occurred. His watery eyes widened and his tone changed.

"Oh, Major, I've just remembered!"

Tavington slowly took his cover from the desk, willing his last shred of patience. "Yes, sir?"

Carter took another envelope, this one made of finer paper and sealed. The Colonel hastily wrote something on the front. "Three days from now, my wife is hosting a party of significant importance. Many lovely people will be there—including many single women desperate for a husband." Carter handed him the envelope, stuffed with the dreaded invitation. The Major accepted it gingerly, sticking the envelope in a vest pocket. If it meant free spirits, lovely women to ogle, and satisfying his superior, Tavington would attend.

***

A party of significant importance did not really do the event justice. It appeared the new Mrs. Carter came from a considerably wealthy family, as the Colonel would not have been able to throw such a ball. The food varied from intricately designed appetizers to the freshest seafood and most delectable cuts of meat Tavington had ever tasted. Flickering flames from elaborate candlesticks were nestled everywhere. The Major thought this quite a fire hazard considering the state of the guests. In the back of the room, about two dozen musicians played their instruments with fervor. Tavington recognized the music as Bach's as the violinists stroked away enthusiastically.

Naturally, a fair portion of the guests were upper-class, occupying a large section of the ball room. Likewise, the other side consisted of a lesser class, those who built their wealth rather than inherited it. Subtle differences in dress and attitude allowed Tavington to distinguish them. Though he was technically of the lower class, it would serve him better to give his attention to those with heavier purses.

For such a large room, it was sweltering. All of the bodies, many either dancing or giddy from their amorous pursuits of single (and not-so single) guests, created an environment for perspiration. Men's necks were tight and suffocated by their cravats, and many were probably unbearable itchy from their wigs. Likewise, the women's bodies were lathered with layers of petticoats and their faces caked with makeup. The combination of all this created a unique odor in the room that would only be undetectable if one were intoxicated enough.

Time was moving far too slowly for the young major. It was socially acceptable to stay as long as he possibly could. Although the way the wine flowed in the room, Tavington was sure he could leave and no one would notice. Nevertheless, he snatched another glass of red delicious wine.

"Tav-li-ton! Chap, you made it." Carter was suddenly bumbling towards him, easily parting through the sea of people by staggering his way past them. The guests were either too drunk or well on their way to notice the colonel's rudeness. Tavington bowed his head slightly to his ridiculous host. Carter threw his head back to drain his wine. "Ah, Major," he slurred, "splendid evening, isn't it?"

"I suppose, Colonel."

"Seen any dainty poppets you migh' like, eh?" Carter stumbled his way to an armchair next to a tall window. He peered at his reflection illuminated by all the candles, seemingly amused by his crooked wig.

Tavington rolled his eyes. This wretch was not going to let him leave England without a bride in tow.

**

"Oh, mother, stop fussing." Regina Mason swatted at Mrs. Mason's hand, who was anxiously correcting lace by her daughter's collarbone.

Mrs. Mason warned her daughter with a sharp gaze that soon quieted the young woman, and she finished her adjustments. "My dear Gina, if you have one shred of hope in finding a suitable companion, you are expected to at least appear decent."

Regina rolled her eyes and stuffed her arms into a fold across her chest. "I do not see _anyone_ suitable, mother," she gestured to the sea of people before them, "All the men are drunken barbarians."

A willowy voice drifted amongst the two. "I see many possible suitors, Regina." The oldest Mason daughter put herself between her family, her stocky figure making a sizable space between them.

Regina scowled. "Mother, why do you bring her? All the good men will know our relation and think I'll give them fat children."

"Oh hush, Gina," Mrs. Mason hissed, "and rid yourself of that appalling sneer. Lilly is just as welcome here. Some men would find her curves attractive."

Lilly seemed unfazed by the conversation and nodded at a figure across the room. "There is a man now. He's transfixed on Regina."

The three pairs of eyes concentrated on a young, yet mature officer some feet away. He was sipping at a glass of red wine and he nodded his head politely to the trio. Lilly was correct however, as his attention seemed to settle on Regina. Mrs. Mason felt a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. The man was quite handsome; jet black hair tied neatly back, strong features, impressive build, and piercing eyes. She felt her own desires flutter in her stomach and she was suddenly more aware than usual of her own figure.

Regina was fidgeting next to her mother. "Oh, he is handsome. Where is Father, he must introduce us," she cranked her head over the crowd, wringing her hands, "Oh, fiddle, all the wigs look alike."

Mrs. Mason put a steady hand on her daughter's shoulder. "My dear, this may be a task for your mother," the woman primped at her hair and smoothed over the fabric of her bodice, "You stay here and look pleasing."

Regina looked like she wanted to whine, but managed to contain herself. Lilly watched their mother glide effortlessly through the crowd. "Careful, sister. You may have some competition with Mother."

Regina gave her sister an incredulous side-long glance after she examined her nails. "Competition? Why are you spewing such nonsense?"

Lilly plucked a small cookie that had been nestled between her plump breasts and took a nibble from it. "She is still very attractive. She need only poison Father's food, you know."

Regina laughed at her sister's apparent joke. However, her smile soon fell as she watched her mother strut tantalizingly toward her male interest.

Mrs. Mason had been considered the most beautiful woman for miles when she was a girl. Age had managed to hold kindness toward her. Her golden blonde tresses that fell in waves to her narrow waist were envied by all. Mrs. Mason had passed this trait, as well as her ample bosom, to her youngest daughter. Her eyes were a wintry, intense green that took hold of any man she'd ever wanted. Therefore, despite the great diamond of promise and love on her finger, Mrs. Mason wanted this man. He had kept a steady gaze on her the entire time she spent coming to him. As she neared, he placed his half empty wine glass on a passing waiter's tray to free up his hands, which he crossed behind his back.

Mrs. Mason finally encountered his personal space. The young man bowed to her, taking her gloved hand and brushing his lips against it. "My lady." She thought her knees would buckle at his voice, deep and suggestive. She gathered her wits and smiled at him.

"Good evening. I was not aware Colonel Carter had invited his officers."

The young man smiled slightly and flickered his gaze over her person. "He did not. I was invited personally."

"Oh? He must like you very much."

The man shrugged and Mrs. Mason caught a whiff of his scent, masculine and clean. "He was very good friends with my father."

Mrs. Mason was aware of his usage of past tense. A dead father meant inheritance to be sure. "I see. What is your name?"

He squared his shoulders a bit and bowed his head to her. "Major William Tavington, Madam…"

"Mason. Angelica Mason," she gave the young officer one of her winning smiles, "I presume you're going to join in on that ridiculous little war?"

Tavington made a mirthless chuckle. "Indeed. I leave in three months, when the weather warms."

"Oh, dear. Your wife must be devastated." Here, Angelica inserted a severe pout. Tavington, however, seemed to instantly bristle at the comment.

"I have no wife to suffer, my lady."

Angelica expressed visual shock by demurely placing a couple fingers to her lips. "No wife? Why, Major, I find that surprising."

Tavington shrugged. "My own flaw, I suppose. I've made myself too busy."

Angelica bit her lip before offering a sweet smile. Her plan was sewing together seamlessly. "Well, a busy man such as yourself deserves some female companionship." The woman eagerly waited for his reaction. She wasn't disappointed when he cocked an eyebrow suggestively. She then innocently motioned behind her, dearly hoping Regina appeared pleasant, "My youngest daughter, Regina, has been considerably bored by all the old men here. Perhaps you may entertain her with a dance?"

She immediately noticed his gaze shift behind her. He then glanced back. "Would you be so kind, madam, as to introduce us?" He offered his arm out to her and she took it delicately, letting the Major lead her through the throng. Regina obviously feigned ignorance over the entire encounter and engaged in seemingly casual conversation with Lilly. Only when they were a couple feet away did Regina turn to them.

Angelica gestured to the Major. "My dear, this is Major Tavington. He has requested the next dance with you."

Regina put an expression of moderate interest on her face, lazily looking up and down the man. Angelica smiled on the inside. She'd always taught her daughters to remain slightly disinterested and even aloof at a suitor's advances.

"I should enjoy a dance." The two exchanged bows before linking arms and meandering through the people to the other dancers.

Angelica sighed cheerfully as she watched them go. "What a match, wouldn't you say, Lilly? And he'll be leaving in three months. They could marry in two months, and he'll impregnate her, leave to fight those ridiculous people and come back in time for the birth. It's perfect."

Lilly slowly reached in her bosom and retrieved a baby carrot. "Have you not heard, Mother? Officers have been accepting land promised to them by their superiors. They have been taking their wives along as well. Settling down in the new world."

Angelica's smile fell instantly and her eyes glistened. "Taking their wives? To live there? Why, we would never see dear Gina again." She suddenly realized the depth of her words and she gave her youngest daughter a side-long glance, "Then again, that girl needs some independence, wouldn't you say, Lilly?"

"If you say so, Mother."

***

Her arm was firm around his, almost as if she was unconsciously claiming him already. Tavington found it amusing. She truly did seem to be the most beautiful woman in the room. However, he would not have ignored her intriguing mother. Tavington allowed himself a small smile. He'd always heard that if one desires to know what their wife will look like as an older woman—scan the mother. It was quite promising. However, Tavington had learned all too painfully before that judging his potential happiness by the size of her attributes and glint of her eye could have disastrous consequences.

They reached the dance floor just as the song ended. The other dancers applauded. It was a dull, muted cacophony of gloved hands. The musicians bowed their heads before turning to their sheet music, talking amongst each other to decide the next dance. Tavington glanced to Regina, whom he felt had been staring at him. Sure enough, his eyes greeted her green orbs as they blinked playfully at him.

Tavington decided to be polite and make small talk as gentlemen do. "Are you having a pleasant evening, my lady?"

She made a tight, seductive smile. "I am now."

Even Tavington was surprised at how easy this was. Surprised enough to be slightly concerned.

"My lady Regina, may I ask your age?"

She swayed her body a little and smiled at him delightfully. "I turn sixteen this month, sir."

Ah. There was the rub, as Hamlet would have said. While it was perfectly reasonable for an older man to court and marry a younger woman, Tavington felt little attraction to the squealing, tittering, immature personalities girls of Regina's age possessed. All of a sudden however, Tavington was very aware of her perfume and the shape of her neck. Mildly he noticed the other dancers going to their places and he took his spot across from Regina, hoping he knew the steps to whatever they were going to play. Likewise, she hadn't taken her eyes off him and held that little smile.

The steps were simple enough, however swift and when the song ended, both of them were a tad winded. Tavington took Regina's soft hand and kissed it. She nibbled at her lip a moment before seemingly materializing a fan. She fluttered it before her bosom a moment before motioning to the other side of the room.

"Major, would you like to bring me some wine?"

Tavington shamefully admitted to himself that he would have stripped to his skivvies at that moment if she'd asked him too. Her skin glistened slightly from perspiration, her chest heaved up and down as she breathed, as he knew the corset somewhere beneath the many layers was wrapped snuggly about her torso. Her blond hair had been tight curls that framed her face. It now had a slight frizz making her look savage yet beautiful. Her green eyes sparkled with adoration and…mischief? Perhaps a certain mischief that could be accomplished in a darkened room. Tavington felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth at the thought of making love to her on Colonel Carter's desk. Would that finally satisfy the fool?

Tavington kissed her hand once more before backing into the crowd. "I will be a moment." Regina giggled and made her way back to Mrs. Mason. Undoubtedly she would spill everything to her mother. From the way he danced to every touch.

Tavington suddenly felt twenty again. It would make sense that a girl half his age would help him feel that way. He made his way amongst the people easily. Most of them were quite far gone from drink and did not even notice him nudging them aside. Tavington finally made it to the bar, expecting to find a table with wine already poured. Two glasses were left. He reached for them when a loud, portly man bumped into him, grabbing one glass and toppling the other over. Tavington growled, resisting punching the man, and instead pushed him out of his way. A moment later, he realized the bartender wasn't at his station. Frustrated with his luck, Tavington leaned against the bar to calm down. In doing so, he heard a humming behind him.

Looking at the source, he discovered a young woman at the window. She was sitting on the sill, taking breaks in her humming to breathe on the glass. A patch of fog appeared on the window. She drew a smiley face in it as she continued to hum a sad ballad. She suddenly stopped the tune and her finger was motionless against the window. Slowly, she turned her head to look at him. Her features were not striking, but certainly pretty. Her hair, brown and wavy, was pinned half back, allowing it to gather and fall down her back. Her eyes were green, like Regina's, but there was intelligence behind them. She was older than Regina, in her early twenties. She stared at him as if he'd walked in on her doing something personal. Tavington stared back, not to be intimidated. Then without warning, she smiled at him.

"You look lost." She said it matter-of-factly as she slid off the window sill, making a soft plop on the hard floor. She smoothed out her red dress and raised an eyebrow at him.

Tavington straightened his spine, putting his hands behind his back. "I'm nothing of a sort. You look lonely."

She glanced about her. They were in the farthest part of the room. A dark hallway extended behind her. She shrugged, returning her odd gaze back to him. "There is always someone close. In this instance, it is you."

Tavington found her immediately strange, yet she did not appear intoxicated. "Are you here with anyone?"

She shrugged, glancing past him at the guests. "I am with my parents. I haven't seen them for some time." Suddenly her eyes locked onto him with an intensity that surprised him. She slowly closed much of the space between them. She got close enough to the point where she now had to look up at him. Her expression no longer contained a smile. "I've seen you several times tonight. I was hoping you would look my way. You never did." Her tone suggested an accusation. Tavington stared down at her, slightly puzzled.

"I apologize, my lady."

She shrugged her slender shoulders. "It matters not. I'm speaking to you now after all. My name is Samantha Richards. I am twenty-two. I do not have a suitor. My favorite flowers are magnolias. They do make a terrible mess when they fall though, don't they?"

Tavington now considered this woman very odd. "I…I'm afraid I've never heard of magnolias."

She appeared unsurprised. "You won't find many here. They're in the New World. John Bannister brought some over some time ago. It is not very popular. It's a tree. _Laurus tulipifera, foliis subtus ex cinereo aut argenteo purpurascentibus_. Of course now it is simply _Magnolia virginiana_. The Chinese use the bark for medicinal purposes."

Tavington noticed the bartender returning and he backed away from the girl. "Two glasses of red wine." The girl followed him, crossing her arms and squinting her eyes at him.

"You think I'm strange, don't you? Don't you think I am pretty? I noticed your eyes dilate when you first saw me. They say that means you are attracted to what you're looking at. Or you've tricked me in some way and you were simply enthralled with my breasts."

Tavington wasn't quite sure how to respond. The bartender stopped pouring wine and stared wide-eyed at each of them. Tavington blinked a few times before taking one of the glasses and draining it. With a flick of his hand, he motioned the bartender to refill it.

"Miss Richards, I have no idea what you're talking about. If you believe I was being vulgar in some way, I apologize. Now if you'll excuse me," He snatched the glasses, "I must be on my way."

Her hand shot out and grabbed his arm. Tavington's anger bloomed and he had half a mind to smack the little sphinx in the face. However, her eyes, no longer angry, pleaded with him. "I apologize, sir. I am not very well versed in how to properly socialize. This is my first ball and my parents have abandoned me for their friends. You are the first person to have spoken to me."

Tavington felt little sympathy for her. She had thoroughly annoyed him and he easily wrenched his arm out of her grasp. "Excuse me, miss." He stalked away, moving into the crowd again and was determined to resist looking behind him.

A/N: Howdy folks. I have this story outlined from beginning to end. I find this chapter one of the most important, so I took a long time to write it and prune it. I appreciate any and all feedback including encouragement to continue. Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

Tavington awoke to an incessant noise. Was that simply his own head pounding? No. A voice accompanied it.

"Tavington! I want my rent today!" More thumping at the door, "I'll come in there and throw you out by your ears, young man! You hear me?"

The shrill, aged voice came from Mrs. Shirley, the proprietor's wife. Every month on the same day, at the same time her screams would resonate through his door, and only his. Tavington wasn't sure why the old bat took a disliking to him. He always paid his rent exactly by the due date. Typically, he ignored her rowdy display. Today, after a night of drink and dance and an accompanying migraine, he was in no mood for her oddities.

Tavington painfully lifted his head from the pillow and inhaled from his diaphragm. "Mrs. Shirley, I will gut you in your sleep if you don't leave me alone!"

A moment passed and not a sound was heard. Then her offbeat footsteps, due to the lameness in her left leg, dissipated down the hall. With a grunt, Tavington let his head fall back to the hardened, lumpy pillow.

He attempted to retrace the activities from the night before. He wasn't even sure how he arrived back at home. He remembered with uneasiness the encounter with that Samantha character. He'd quickly forgotten about her once he returned to Regina. They drank and danced some more. Mrs. Mason continued to flirt. He had spoken some time to Lilly, finding her a master at communication. He had a slight memory of meeting Mr. Mason although the old man was as far gone from drink as he was.

Once Tavington pieced together these events, his memory fogged. He recalled Regina begging him to dance. There was an argument between Regina and her mother concerning her dress. Lilly had a seemingly endless supply of appetizers stuffed between her breasts. Everything else was a dream. He still wasn't certain how he made it home.

Tavington painfully rose and slowly placed his feet on the floor. He was still in his dress uniform, now wrinkled and smelling an odd mix of wine and perfume. Groaning he stood, feeling the joints pop and crack. He was quite annoyed with the state of his uniform. He only had one dress uniform; it would have to be cleaned as soon as possible. He stumbled to the dirty window, squinting at the sunlight that filtered in between the dingy, somewhat white curtains. It was late in the morning and people hustled about below. There was something of a sense of urgency in everyone, despite it being a Saturday.

Tavington fumbled with the buttons of his jacket, feeling the inside of pockets for anything he may have placed in there. Sure enough, a neatly folded piece of paper was inside his vest. He took it out and examined it, discovering it was a copy of one of the invitations from the ball. On the back however, was delicate, feminine handwriting. Only a few lines were written. An address, a time, and a date. The address was close enough. The time was for six o'clock, and the date was…today. Tavington had a pretty good idea of who he was going to visit and he went to work cleaning himself up.

***

**One Month Later**:

The Masons had a very elaborate garden behind their home. Many of the delicate birch trees and white willows dotted the backyard. Spring flowers were popping out of the ground and blooming cheerfully. Birds were finishing their activities for the day, flying overhead and singing goodnight to the sun. Tavington lead Regina with her hand in his to a stone bench towards the end of the garden path under a mature white willow tree. Far from prying eyes and impossible to see from the house. Tavington breathed in deep, soaking in the pleasant aromas. Regina twirled an underdeveloped rose bloom between her fingers as she sat down on the bench. Tavington joined her, not releasing her hand.

"Lovely night, isn't it, Regina?"

The girl shrugged and let go of his hand to pick at the tight flower petals. "I suppose."

Tavington nodded, waiting for something ingenious to come to him. Nothing. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the noises of night creatures that were just waking up. Tavington drew his hands together and hunched forward on the bench. He was never any good at these things. Then again, who said they had to speak? With a smirk, Tavington turned to Regina, gently taking the rose from her hands. At her pout, Tavington placed a hand behind her neck and pulled her to him. He then kissed her slowly, waiting to see if she was in the mood. She did respond, albeit hesitantly. No, hesitant wasn't the right word. More like she was humoring him. Testing her, Tavington became more passionate, placing his other hand on her thigh and deepening the kiss. At this, Regina squeaked and broke the kiss.

"William!" She chastised and removed his hands from her.

Tavington's eyebrows drew in from annoyance. "What?" He spat, "It's nothing we haven't done."

At that comment, Regina huffed a sigh and turned away from him. "Maybe I don't feel like it."

Tavington made an incredulous laugh. "You _always_ feel like it."

She gasped and stood from the bench, stalking to a nearby birch. She leaned against the tree and crossed her arms defiantly with her back to him. Dumbfounded, Tavington also stood and followed, standing a few feet behind her. When she didn't say anything, he gently placed a hand on her elbow. She pulled it from him, sighing again. Now Tavington was becoming angry.

"What is wrong with you, Regina? You've been acting strange for days." Tavington found this behavior completely unacceptable. In addition, it was just the sort of childish performance he disliked from the girls Regina's age. He didn't have time for this and frankly, he thought he deserved better.

Regina shrugged again, keeping her arms tightly crossed. "I _am_ a girl you know. I don't have to be in the mood all the time."

Tavington decided to drop it. She was indeed a girl and prone to mood swings of disturbing degrees. "I'm sorry." He murmured it begrudgingly. Apologizing was not something he made a habit of.

Again, she shrugged. The motion was getting on his nerves. "It's alright," Finally she turned to him with an expression of reprimand, "Is that why you brought me out here?"

Tavington shifted his weight awkwardly and crossed his hands behind his back. "No. It's something else," with a sigh, he began to pace, purposely avoiding eye contact with her, "I've been giving this some careful thought. I'll be deploying in two months and it will be very difficult without you," Here he stopped to gauge her expression. She looked bored. He continued, "It's going to be quite stressful being away. Not to mention lonely. That being the case," he stopped pacing again and went to her, "I propose you come with me."

Regina had an expression almost of relief and she made a short giggle. "Come with you? Oh, William, that's not possible unless—what are you doing?"

Tavington had dropped to one knee with a hand in his trouser pocket. He retrieved a tiny box and held it up to her. Regina's eyes went wide and her hands rose slowly to her mouth. "William, you mustn't."

Tavington opened the box to reveal a modest diamond ring. To him, everything was going as planned. She was appropriately shocked, her breathing quickened, and she wasn't running away.

Tavington cleared his throat. "Regina Elizabeth Mason, will you do me the honor of being my wife?"

Regina croaked and backed away slightly. "William…I…"

Tavington's internal victory was suddenly faltering. His smile disappeared as she continued to back away until her back bumped into another birch tree. Tavington closed the ring box and stood, staring at the young woman. "I don't understand, Regina. I thought this is what you wanted."

Regina's eyes started to glisten and a tear slithered down her cheek. "It—it _was_ what I wanted."

He blinked, not understanding. "Was?" Suddenly his anger flared and he heard the volume of his voice rise, "What the hell happened then, Regina?"

Her body jolted at his outburst and more tears sprung from her eyes. "I'm sorry, William, it's not you it's just," her eyes looked elsewhere, beyond the gardens, "It's Henry."

Tavington at first couldn't even comprehend what she said. "Henry?"

Regina shot her gaze back to him and nodded, a bit of a smile playing on her lips. "Henry Newman. He's a bank teller. He's very kind and—and William, I'm in _love_."

Tavington tried to process what she'd just told him. Henry. A bank teller. "In _love_?" he shook his head, almost laughing, "You're in _love_ with him?"

She nodded, now smiling fully and gazing up at the sky as night quickly blanketed it. "I met him two weeks ago. It was a windy day and my bonnet flew right off my head. He got it for me! He chased it all the way down the street and saved it from a nasty puddle!"

Tavington continued to stare at her, his hands tightening into fists at his side. "Because he saved your bonnet, you're in love with him?"

Regina scowled, leaning back against the tree. "Oh, William, you make it sound ridiculous."

His fury peaked and he felt the muscles in his legs work to propel him forward and attack her. Instead, he walked past her. This was just the sort of reason why he stayed away from women. Damn Carter and damn his promotion. Dying with a bullet in his back on a bloody battlefield sounded perfect.

"William, wait!"

Tavington clearly heard her but continued through the garden. He would be damned to spend another moment on her property. Already he was desperately hoping he could get the down-payment back from the jeweler. Suddenly, a flurry of blond hair appeared in front of him. Delicate hands were on his chest. She was crying.

"William, please," She hurriedly wiped tears out of her eyes, "At least stay for dinner. I couldn't bear to face my mother alone."

Tavington couldn't believe what he was hearing. He brushed her hands away as if they were bugs. "You want _me_, the man who wanted to marry you, to help explain to your family why _you_ committed adultery?"

She processed what he said then nodded vigorously. "Yes. William, I beg you."

Tavington couldn't believe he was still standing here and listening to her nonsense. He was also shocked that he was actually taking time to weigh the consequences. If he stayed for dinner, he'd be able to say a proper goodbye to the family. He had developed a meaningful rapport with Lilly and he would miss conversing with her. He'd also receive a free meal. If the price was making Regina look a fool — well, at this point he relished in the idea of making her look like a fool.

***

The dining table was uncomfortably silent. Mr. and Mrs. Mason each sat at the heads of the table. Mr. Mason was in his typical stance, chair turned at an angle away from the table to make room for his corpulence and holding a newspaper out in front of him. Angelica tried to bore holes in her husband's shiny forehead for his rudeness. He was either ignoring her or unaware of her anger. Lilly and Regina sat next to each other across from Tavington. Lilly's eyes travelled to everyone, knowing that some kind of trouble was brewing. When her gaze reached Tavington, he stared back and lightly motioned to Regina, who ate her dinner with particular fervor. Lilly raised her eyebrows before concentrating on her green beans. When Angelica realized her husband was probably ignoring her, she moved her attention to Tavington. With a jerk of her head, she also motioned to Regina, a question in her expression. Tavington stuffed a slice of steak in his mouth, offering her no response.

Angelica pursed her lips, then made a short, high pitched sigh. The table did not react. Carefully placing her utensils beside her plate, she crossed her hands in her lap.

"Well, how was everyone's day? Anything exciting happen?" Angelica made no effort to hide the expectation in her voice.

Mr. Mason grunted, not looking away from his paper.

Lilly cleared her throat before speaking in her typical soft tone. "Today is the feast day of St. Isidore of Seville."

Angelica sighed, fixing the silk napkin draped across her lap. "That's nice, dear."

Regina was eating faster now and she was coming close to unladylike. Angelica watched her with distaste, but obviously did not want to chastise her in front of Tavington. As expected, Angelica eventually turned her attention to Tavington.

"What about you, Major?" She bat her eyelashes and dipped her chin knowingly, "Anything…stimulating?"

Tavington noticed Regina stopped eating. She stared at him and made an expression that was pleading him to say something. He stared right back. Did she really expect him to start? Her little slipper-clad foot nudged his boot. His face turned hard as stone. If this is what it took to get the little wench out of his life, then fine. Gaining his composure, he turned to the expectant Mrs. Mason.

"I proposed marriage to Regina."

Angelica feigned shock and placed her hands together. Lilly glanced back and forth between everyone. Mr. Mason even peeked from behind his newspaper. Tavington looked to Regina. She gesticulated with her hand as if telling him to go on. Unbelievable. Would she say _nothing_? Fine. He would tell the dear Mrs. Mason exactly what has transpired.

"Your daughter refused me."

The clinking noise of Lilly's utensils ceased immediately. There was a crinkling of paper as Mr. Mason's face finally appeared, his gray bushy eyebrows hiked up. Angelica still had her hands together, but her smile dropped to the floor and she slowly turned her head to her daughter.

"She _what_?"

Regina had stuffed a roll in her mouth. Her eyes were wide and she motioned to Tavington to continue. He ripped the napkin from his lap, dropped it over his plate and stood. He would not humiliate himself any longer.

"Mr. Mason, Mrs. Mason, Lilly," Tavington inclined his head to each of them, "I appreciate the kindness you've shown me. Enjoy the rest of the meal. Good night."

A scraping of chairs and rustling of skirts erupted as Mrs. Mason and Regina both sprung from their seats. Mr. Mason grunted and hid his face behind the newspaper once again. Lilly stared at her plate. The other two both rounded the table to reach Tavington first. Regina beat her mother, grabbing his arm in a desperate attempt to keep him rooted.

"William, please!" She pleaded, clinging to his sleeve, "Help me explain the rest! You said you would!"

Tavington made a short, mirthless laugh. With one swift tug, he was free of her. However, before turning away, he took her little chin in his hand. "My dear, if you ever cross my path again, I will drag you by your hair to the docks and toss you into the ocean."

Her eyes widened as he released her chin and she backed away from him slowly. Angelica stood behind her, mouth agape in disbelief. Tavington caught Lilly's eye. He smiled at her and winked. She returned a sad smile and a little wave. Swiftly, Tavington made for the hallway to the front door. Footsteps fell behind him. He could tell by the perfume who it was.

Tavington reached for his overcoat hanging by the door. The hallway was mostly dark, as the servants hadn't lit any candles yet. Soft light filtered in through the windows by the door. He could hear sobbing from the dining room down the hallway. Tavington smiled to himself. He had created a situation that forced Regina to tell the truth. Whether she actually did tell the truth didn't matter to him. He was to have nothing to do with the family again. The woman following him now stood directly behind him.

"Mrs. Mason, I'm afraid there's nothing you can do to fix this." He shuffled on his overcoat as he waited for her response.

"My daughter is a very silly girl, Major," Her small hand was suddenly on his back, "As well as fickle. I can only imagine what she's done."

Tavington continued to face the door, wanting to leave, but the hand on his back was like a force beyond his control. The hand slid from his back to his arm and finally his hand as she circled around in front of him. Tavington stared down at her face. She appeared years younger in the dim light. A smile appeared on her features as she continued to keep a firm grip on his hand.

Tavington formed a tight smile of his own. "What can I do for you, Mrs. Mason?"

She batted her eyelashes suggestively. "My dear Major, please don't assume you're not welcome in this house anymore. In fact, I think you'll find it most welcoming this weekend. My husband is taking our daughters on a trip through the countryside. I won't be going, you see. Too much sun makes me weary."

Tavington was quite certain a carnal experience with the intriguing Angelica Mason would be exciting. She would no doubt be far more adventurous than her daughter. He leaned his head down slightly, grazing her collarbone with his other hand before placing it on the back of her neck. Then he whispered to her.

"Mrs. Mason, I would sooner make love to my horse." He squeezed her neck before releasing her and brushed past her to open the door. In doing so, he was able to see the lovely expression of shock on her pretty features.

***

The night had turned unseasonably chilly. Tavington welcomed it. The cold felt clean and crisp against his skin. However, beneath the dermis, his blood boiled. He was angry with himself that he ever listened to Carter. He didn't need marriage to attain promotion. Hell, he didn't need women. Give him that bloodstained battlefield and the cheap, diseased whores. A quick shag in his tent was more than enough to satisfy him. Love obviously wasn't real. People fall carelessly into love as easily as they can tumble out of it. Already Tavington felt he had sufficiently deleted any emotions he had for Regina Mason. However, the experience was tiresome and a part of him felt drained of energy.

His flat was a few miles away on the other side of town. Tavington was a tad disappointed that he had to walk the length to his home. His plans tonight had included the happy announcement to the Mason family about the upcoming nuptials. He further expected Mrs. Mason to invite him to stay the night in one of their several guest rooms. He had been looking forward in the dead of night to sneaking into Regina's room to carry out certain mischief with his new fiancée. Now he walked the empty streets of the town, passing house after house where the residents made lively family noise from inside. Children giggled and deep rumbling guffaws of men trickled out to the street. Tavington almost felt as if they were taunting him.

To hell with family. He didn't need a gurgling, drooling child bouncing on his lap. He didn't care about passing on his name. He only wanted to be remembered for his heroic and admirable acts in warfare. Damn women with their incessant need for new clothes and hair things and jewelry and fickle sexual needs—

The figure collided with him with the force of a wild animal. If he had been shorter, he might have toppled to the ground. Assuming he was being mugged, Tavington grabbed the figure and slammed its small frame against the wall of a ladies' attire store. The person gasped—a feminine gasp. Tavington immediately loosened his grip on the person but did not let go. Light from the house next door finally allowed Tavington to make out the features of the woman. His expression turned from murderous rage to confusion almost instantly.

"You." He said it in an accusatory manner.

The woman stared at him wide-eyed and trembling. Her hair had been up but was close to falling out. Despite the chill in the air, her skin gleamed with perspiration. Her eyebrows drew together in uncertainty. She did not seem to recognize him. Perhaps this was not the same woman. Then she whispered.

"_Magnolia virginiana._" She still seemed unsure as she waited for his response.

Tavington nodded. "Yes, they make a terrible mess and the Chinese use the bark for medicinal purposes."

Her fear dissipated immediately and she smiled. "It is you. And you remembered."

Tavington finally let go of her and backed away to a respectable distance, straightening his overcoat. "Your character is difficult to forget, my lady."

She ducked her head a bit and patted at her disheveled hair barely staying in its bun. Tavington took in her appearance. She looked as though she'd been through a wind storm. Her entire person was in disarray. He became concerned.

"Are you alright? Why were you running?"

She stared at him as if she didn't understand. Then she blinked her eyes several times, whipped around and peered down the alleyway she'd burst forth from. She pointed into its darkness.

"There was a man. He grabbed at me. I was running away."

Immediately, Tavington swiftly moved her behind him and he entered the alley. The time he'd spent walking the streets had made his eyes adjust to the dark. He could see nothing but the glow of light from the houses beyond. The cur must've taken off when he heard Tavington's voice. He turned back to the woman.

"There's no one there."

She sighed in relief. "Thank goodness he's gone," She nodded at him and smiled, "And thank you, sir. You probably saved my life."

Tavington reasoned that he most likely did save her life, or at least her person from violation. However, his short spurt of adrenaline finally spent, Tavington suddenly realized the oddness of the situation.

"My lady, what are you doing out at this hour by yourself?"

Even in the dim light, Tavington could see her cheeks blush. She looked down with shame, then glanced behind her, as if wanting to leave. When she turned back to him, her expression was almost childlike. As if she'd been caught sneaking a spoonful of honey.

"I'm not far from my home," She motioned behind her, "I like to sneak out sometimes. I love the night. So many things are hidden in the dark."

Tavington was beginning to find her as strange as the night he met her. Instead of questioning her excuse, he offered her his arm. "Well, in an event you shouldn't be wandering about. I believe the possible dangers posed themselves quite well tonight. I'll walk you home. Samantha, was it?"

She blinked at his arm as if shocked by the offer, then looked up at him with those big green eyes. The same color, yet so different than Regina's. She made a tight smile and linked her arm with his, leading him in the direction of her home. They walked for but a few moments in silence before she giggled and pointed to the sky.

"Look! Hydra, the sea serpent," Her face seemed to glow from excitement, "It's the largest constellation you know."

Tavington glanced up to see what he thought would be an obvious formation of stars. Instead, he only saw millions of the little dots in no particular pattern. He looked back at Samantha, who had been watching him expectantly, with childlike anticipation. Tavington stared up at the sky again, pointing in the general direction that she had.

"You mean that over there?"He humored her as seriously as possible.

She nodded enthusiastically, bobbing her head one too many times. They continued to walk through the empty streets. "I love watching the stars. They make me feel so small though. Then again, I suppose that's a good thing. Being too big comes with more responsibilities. You look like you have many responsibilities."

Tavington was surprised to suddenly have the topic of conversation about him. He stared ahead. "I will anyway. I leave for the colonies soon."

Tavington was only able to really see her face when they passed a window. It was slightly unnerving. He would see a distinct expression on her features, watch them become shrouded in darkness, only to see a completely different expression on her face a moment later. In that instance, her face conveyed concern.

"You're going to fight?"

Tavington nodded, unsure if she could even see him very well. "Yes, it is my duty."

Again, she was in darkness, and this time they passed houses where the residents had gone to bed and all the candles had been snuffed. Samantha did not speak for a while, but clung to his arm a bit tighter than before. Neither of them said anything more for some time and Tavington wondered if she even knew where she was going. They had taken a few turns with no hesitation on her part.

"Did you know between twenty-five and fifty million people died from the Black plague in the 14th century?"

Tavington stared at her, this time her expression remaining as he caught glimpses of her face. "I…did not."

She did not seem surprised by his lack of historical knowledge. "Of course the Thirty Years war picked off another eleven million or so. So much death."

Tavington decided this was a roundabout way for her to express she disagreed with the war.

"Yes well, sometimes war is necessary." Tavington wished he hadn't said it. She stopped walking almost immediately.

"Is it?"

They were in the glow of another house and the shadows on her face almost made her look insane. Her eyes were wide and her lips pursed. One eyebrow had risen defiantly. She no longer appeared childlike. However, Tavington stood his ground.

"Yes, my lady. We've tried being to be _nice_ to the colonials," Tavington bit on the words, making it clear that he found "being nice" a disagreeable thing, "However, they continue to be stubborn and insult the crown by behaving in this way. They give us no choice but to use force."

She sighed, looking ahead of them. "And you don't mind the possibility of turning into one of those numbers?"

Tavington wasn't sure now if she was more concerned about him supporting the war or whether he would survive it. "Of course not. I would die for my country, Miss Richards. It is a great honor to die on the battlefield."

Her expression turned to one of inquisitiveness. "Did you know that there was an ancient civilization in the New World that practiced human sacrifice to appease the gods? The people found it honorable to place themselves on an alter and allow their hearts to be dug out from their chests and burned. Can you imagine that?"

With that, Samantha turned and pointed to the dark house beside them. "Here we are," She said cheerfully, "I do hope I didn't take you far out of your way."

Tavington almost missed what she said as he cleared the gruesome pictures from his head. "I—no, it's alright," He actually didn't have a clue as to where they were, "Please though, Miss Richards, don't let me find you wandering about at night again."

She smiled and swayed. "I think we had a wonderful time, though, wouldn't you say…I don't believe I ever caught your name, sir."

Tavington took her hand and kissed it lightly. "Major William Tavington the Third."

She nodded and squeezed his fingers a moment before he released her hand. "It's been a pleasure Major William Tavington the Third." And she turned to make her way to the back of the house, mostly likely to whatever secret passage she used to sneak out at night.

Before she was out of sight though, Tavington heard himself say something unexpected. "Miss Richards," He could see her figure halt in the darkness, "Might I come by in a few days and call on you?"

He couldn't see her smile, but he had a feeling she did. "You may. Goodnight, sir."

Tavington merely whispered "goodnight," at her retreating figure. He stood watching her until he could no longer make out the lines of her body.

***

Thank you all for your reviews and encouragement. I hope I can continue to give Tavington's character justice as I go. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Ciao! I realize it has been literally years since I've touched this story, but I was going through some old documents and found this. It excited me enough to whip out a new chapter today. I hope someone finds it enjoyable!

Thanks for reading,

Sancti

PS: For whatever reason I picture Anthony Hopkins as Mr. Richards (Samantha's father), if that's helpful at all.

* * *

Chapter 3

Tavington sat across from Mr. Richards, his hands clasped in his lap as the two men sized each other up. Mr. Lawrence Richards was a distinguished gentleman. His broad forehead framed deeply set blue eyes that seemed to carry a perpetual sadness. His combed back hair had lost all color long ago and was as white as a dove's feather. He had once been a strong man, evidenced by his broad chest and shoulders, but now he sat hunched. Tired. As if whatever weight on his shoulders had finally become too heavy. His piercing blue eyes scrutinized Tavington in such a way that he felt like the man was carefully thumbing the pages of his very soul. There were not many in this world who could make Tavington squirm. Mr. Richards was making the list on his stare alone.

"How long did you say you were in the military?" He had a thespian voice to boot. It demanded your attention.

"I…didn't, sir," Tavington brushed an imaginary piece of lint from his knee, "I joined at fifteen."

Mr. Richards nodded, his eyebrow arched as he waited for the answer to his question. "And now you are…"

"I'm thirty-four, sir."

"Ah."

Silence commenced as Samantha's father continued to stare at the Major. "And you've never married?"

"No, sir."

The older man studied him further, his head tilting to the side in thought. "Do you attend Sunday worship?"

"No, sir."

"Don't you believe in God?"

"No, sir."

Mr. Richards bristled in the velvet armchair. "Why not?"

"I've found God conveniently absent when He's needed most."

"The Lord is in everything."

Tavington barely took a breath to respond. "I've seen boys hardly old enough to self-abuse, with their organs spilled over their knees screaming for their mothers. God was nowhere to be found…sir."

Mr. Richards smirked mirthlessly, though he finally took his eyes off him for a moment, as if he could see the scene. "You're very honest, aren't you?"

Tavington straightened in his seat at the end of the Victorian divan. "It hasn't caused me too much trouble yet."

Before he could respond, a woman a few years younger than Mr. Richards and in modest dress entered the parlor carrying a tray of tea and sweet biscuits. She set it down on the coffee table that separated Tavington and Mr. Richards. The Major nodded to the woman as he reached for his teacup.

"Thank you, Mrs. Richards."

The woman blushed as she straightened. "Oh, sir, I'm not Mrs. Richards." Her thick Irish accent came through, making it more obvious that she was merely a maid. She directed her attention to Mr. Richards, "Should I bring Miss down?"

The old man waved her away. "Not yet, Sally."

The woman lightly curtsied before taking her leave. Tavington cringed at his mistake and he dipped his head in apology once she left. "I'm sorry, sir, I just assumed."

Mr. Richards did not seem bothered. "Sadly, Mrs. Richards passed away last year."

Tavington halted just before taking a sip of his tea. "My sympathies…curious, at the Colonel's party, your daughter mentioned both of you were in attendance."

Mr. Richards sighed as he drank from his cup, his eyes wincing at the heat. "Samantha took the death of her mother with much difficulty. She refers to her as if she is still here." He put the cup down and added another cube of sugar, "I'm not sure why. She had a terrible relationship with her mother. The two were worse than bickering sisters. Hateful, even."

Tavington tried to picture the soft-spoken woman in a screaming match with her mother. He found it difficult to believe. "That seems contrary to her character."

Her father grunted as he eased back into the chair, his tea properly prepared. "Samantha is a walking contradiction."

Tavington chose not to respond and put a biscuit in his mouth so he couldn't speak. Mr. Richards did not seem to care. "When do you deploy, Major?"

Tavington took a gulp of the scorching tea to help the biscuit down his throat. Mr. Richards waited patiently. Clearing his passage with a slight cough, the Major finally found his voice to answer. "Two months, sir."

Mr. Richards made a sound in his throat that seemed to indicate jadedness. "I see. And your intentions are to sweep my daughter off her feet, marry her and drag her to the New World?"

Tavington noted the hostility in the man's tone. He put up a hand in defense. "Sir, I don't plan on sweeping or dragging your daughter anywhere."

"Then what do you want with her?" He snapped, some of the weight seemingly lifted off his shoulders and he sat up, his chest puffed out, "Some shoddy dalliance that will end with my daughter heartbroken and your loins satisfied as you sail away?"

The old man's candor took him aback and he sat silent for a moment. Slowly, he replied. "Sir, I met your daughter at a ball. I found her intriguing, and I believe she felt the same about me. I am here today, because there is a chance at courtship."

"Why did you wait a month to call on her?"

"I—" He halted, but there was no need to lie. He was sinking fast anyway. "I was involved with someone else. It didn't work out."

Mr. Richards grunted. "Why not?"

"She cheated on me." Tavington spat, challenging the man to find fault in him.

The old man retained a grim expression. He was trying to get at something and Tavington couldn't figure out what. Finally his strength seemed to give, and the old man deflated, his shoulders hunching once more as he leaned back into the chair, his tea forgotten. "Forgive me, Major, but I am naturally suspicious of any man who calls on Samantha. I wish I could say it is simply because I am a father and she is my daughter, but, it's more than that, I'm afraid."

Tavington narrowed his eyes as the truth was slowly revealed. "Samantha does not get many gentleman callers. She may seem charming at first, but—the girl can be rather odd. Prone to fits, you see. Rages. At other times, she is so vulnerable and weak, I swear she would let the Devil lead her to Hell itself if he promised her a sweet." The old man looked up at the ceiling then. Tavington followed his gaze, half expecting to see some devilish version of Samantha hanging from the rafters.

Mr. Richards massaged his temple, gesturing with his free hand. "Thankfully, the majority of the time she is meek. However that is where she finds herself in trouble with men. They take advantage of her if she hasn't scared them off first."

Tavington took the information in with quiet disbelief. Certainly the girl seemed odd, but he couldn't imagine her going into fits of rage. Her father shrugged, sadness filling the rest of his features to match his eyes. "She is nearly twenty-three. I've admitted to myself that she will probably be a spinster the rest of her life. She's not made to be a wife or mother. She requires patience and understanding." He emphasized his words by slicing his hand through the air.

Tavington smiled assuredly. "I'm an officer of his Majesty's army. I have patience."

The old man scoffed. "She needs the patient of a saint, not a soldier."

"What about an honest man?"

His dipped his chin in thought. "How do I know are you honest?"

"I admitted I don't believe in God."

"Why should you be honest if you don't fear a higher power?"

"Why should I fear something that doesn't exist?" Mr. Richards cringed, and Tavington continued, "I'm honest so as to earn the respect of others, not to avoid punishment of a deity."

"Would you raise heathen children?"

Tavington shrugged. "If it's the wrath of God that keeps my children in check, why use anything else?"

Mr. Richards smiled, though it did little to alleviate the endless sadness in his eyes. "What do you really want with my daughter, William? If you simply want to satisfy your needs, I will give you the money myself for a whore if it means leaving my daughter in peace."

Tavington chuckled. "That is generous of you, Mr. Richards. But I'm afraid I have my sights set on Samantha because I am genuinely intrigued by her."

"From a single interaction with her?"

"What can I say, sir? She has my attention."

The old man looked away, scowling. His eyes were eventually drawn to a painting of a raven-haired woman above the fireplace. This must be the late Mrs. Richards. "She is my only child, William. I want the best for her. Her mother would want it so."

"She would have that with me, sir. A comfortable home. A dutiful husband."

He shifted his gaze to the major. "If you survive your occupation."

Tavington shrugged. "If I fall in the line of duty, she will certainly come back to live with you."

"Oh, yes," His eyes rolled, "Even more damaged than she already is. Thank you for that."

"I could also marry her and die of scarlet fever a month later, or dysentery or kicked by my bloody horse. It's the chance we take, sir, in order to be happy."

The man drew a deep sigh, and seemed to sink into the seat cushions even more. "I feel I am going to regret this decision," He fixed Tavington with a cold stare, his eyes watery, "I will make a deal with you, William. Take this month to court Samantha. You will call on her frequently, I want you to spend time with her to really understand that girl. If by the end of the month you have not lost your temper with her, you will have my blessing to have her hand."

Tavington regarded the man carefully. "That is all? Don't get angry?"

"It's a more challenging test than you'd think. If you fail, you will leave her alone. Do we have an accord?"

Tavington found nothing unreasonable with the agreement. "We do."

The man nodded and slowly rose from the chair. He looked about the room, seeming a bit lost. "I would have us swear over a Bible, however seeing as that would mean nothing to you, we will have to swear as gentlemen."

Tavington grinned before draining his now cold tea. "That will do."

* * *

Tavington leaned against a mighty maple tree. Its branches had grown long and wide. A particularly strong limb supported the rope of a swing Samantha was currently seated on. She swayed back and forth at unabashed heights, her skirts fluttering, revealing her slender ankles. Tavington watched her youthful display with pleasure. The happiness in her face as the warm sun kissed her cheeks gave him much satisfaction. He loved seeing her happy. She giggled as she reached a new height, the air moving as she whooshed past him.

"Doesn't that make you ill?" He called out to her.

Samantha slid her hands high up on the rope and leaned her torso back far enough that Tavington almost feared she would fall. But she just closed her eyes and let the momentum of the swing take her back and forth, the tree limb creaking lightly.

"Not at all," She replied contently, "It's like flying."

Her still body caused the swing to slow down and gradually she came back to earth, her toes lightly scratching the ground. Tavington moved to her, putting a hand on one of the ropes, which brought the swing to a stop. Samantha opened her emerald eyes and smiled sweetly at him. "Yes?"

"Your father says you're prone to fits, is that true?"

Her smile dropped and she looked away, fixing her eyes on the house. "That's what you two were talking about in there?"

"He was very open with me."

She nodded, her lips forming an "oh" of understanding. "I see. He told you I drive men away, yes? Well, he is quite theatrical. I suppose he told you mother died last year too?"

Tavington's brow furrowed, surprised by her bluntness. "Yes…"

Samantha scoffed, her hands dropped to her lap. "She's not dead. She left him for a younger man. She lives in Edinburgh. He tells everyone she's dead because he's ashamed."

Tavington was vaguely aware his jaw had dropped. "I—he has a portrait of her."

She threw her hands in the air. "I told you. Theatrics. He loves the sympathy it gains him. Did he manage to squeeze out a tear? I suppose he told you I go into fits of rage and that I fought with my mother?"

He could only manage a nod.

"He tells all my suitors that to scare them off. He's terrified I will leave him," She hopped off the wooden swing and stomped the ground, "He _promised_ he would stop doing that. Stubborn old fool."

"We—we made a deal."

"Ah, yes, the 'Don't Lose Your Temper,' Deal? That's a classic."

Tavington stared, waiting for an explanation.

"Have you ever heard of a couple going an entire month without quarrelling? He would get those poor boys so riled up and ready for me to have some lunatic fit, that our first quarrel would send them away. He got creative though. If a man was trying his absolute best not to get in a spat, Father would tell him something like, 'Oh, so how did the talk go with Samantha? Do you think you can forgive her for kissing your brother?' Or some such nonsense as that."

Tavington found himself needing the tree again for support. He leaned against it, taking in everything she was saying. Would the old man really turn to deceit? Risk his daughter's reputation just so she wouldn't leave him? Samantha was going on and on about all his past ploys, apparently something he had been doing since she came of age. Tavington took her elbow and drew her near to him. She looked at him expectantly.

"I'm sorry, Samantha."

She half-smiled and closed the space between them to give him a hug. She wrapped her arms about his midsection and leaned her head into his chest, like they were old friends. The action took him by surprise. Indeed, they were still practically strangers, and it was not appropriate. Lightly he returned the hug, patting her back awkwardly. She broke the embrace and looked up at him through thick black lashes.

"I may be a tad strange, Major William Tavington the Third, but I'm not crazy." She wiggled her eyebrows and stuck out her tongue in an attempt to look mad. He couldn't help but chuckle at her, and in doing so, he felt his heart swell with the familiar feeling he'd come to know as smitten. He could easily fall in love with this woman.

She shook her head and glanced at the house. "I suppose I better go chastise him."

Tavington took her hand to stop her. "No…no, let's…let's play his own game, shall we?"

Samantha grinned, revealing a row of straight white teeth. "What did you have in mind?"

He led her to the swing by the hand, coaxing her back onto the wooden board. Standing behind her, he intertwined his hands with hers on the rope, enjoying the softness of her skin in contrast with the rough rope. He then leaned down to her ear, whispering in mock conspiracy. "We are going to be so sickeningly sweet and perfect, he won't be able to hold down his biscuits."

Her chin dipped to her shoulder so their faces were inches away. "Oooh, I like this game," She whispered back, "You think he will fall for it?"

Tavington couldn't help himself and he kissed the tip of her nose. Her cheeks reddened and he wanted to take her right then. However, he needed to be patient. "I think by the end he will be so nonplussed he won't know what to think."

In the back of his mind, a thought nagged at Tavington that she was deceiving him. But she looked so innocent, the wind playing with her chocolate curls. The wrinkle of her nose at their plan. How could he trust an old man's word over this young beauty, so full of life? But then, he found himself remembering her reference to both her parents at the ball.

_Samantha took the death of her mother with much difficulty._

Tavington shook the thought away. He had been quite drunk that night. Who knows what she told him. Suddenly, she was laughing again as she swung back and forth. Like a siren's song, he found himself entranced by her voice. His doubts dissolved under the sound of her laughter. In due time, she would be his. He just had to be patient. Of course, with the patience of a soldier—not a saint, he thought, as he stole another glimpse at her slender ankles.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading! If you'd like to see more, please feed the starving artist reviews. I'm serious, I'm on a ramen noodle diet over here. Happy writing, everyone!

Sancti


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